


Affair

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Category: Mirrors (2008)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-28
Updated: 2010-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:31:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite the mistakes she's made, Amy finds an unexpected ally after her divorce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Somehow Angie always winds up in trouble. The things she plans never work out. Acting had worked for a time, until she got sick of having to brush off sleezy directors and the not-so-mythical casting couch and bowed out of the industry. The thing was, she knew that it would end that way even going into it, but convinced herself it would be different. It's like she just sets herself up for failure again and again.

It's a stark contrast to her brother's life, the New York City Police Detective. Career, a beautiful wife, children. Exactly what he'd always said he wanted when they were young. She envies Ben, but she can't hate him, not when he's always tried so hard to take care of her, been her support through all her crazy ideas, then held her close and wiped her tears whenever they went bad. She can't begrudge him a successful career and a beautiful wife, even if it seems things are strained between the two of them. Even if she can't help but notice how careful her brother is whenever he talks about Amy, whenever he's around Amy, as if he's afraid to make a mistake. She wonders if Ben is truly happy with Amy, or if he's just convinced himself that he needs to be, that everything has to be perfect to ensure success - career, wife, two children, beautiful house. The white picket fence dream. Maybe she isn't so different from Ben after all. They just delude themselves in different ways.

Angie feels guilty for liking Amy Carson as much as she does. But truthfully, they've always gotten on well, the proverbial giggling girlfriends. She'd even been in Amy's wedding party. She comes to their house, sometimes, when she doesn't have work and Ben is working late, helping Amy with the kids and trying not to think what things would be like if it was her in her brother's place. Maybe there's something in her genes that makes Amy irresistible. Angie's always liked girls, but always been afraid to act beyond a few drunken fumbles in college - afraid of her brother's disappointment, afraid of the disapproving memories of her dead parents. Afraid of screwing her life up even more. But she thinks it might be worth it, for Amy.

She thinks about it far too often, especially when they're together. They sit on the porch swing overlooking the backyard where the children play, drinking cold wine spritzers, and Angie watches Amy's mouth against the bottle and imagines what it would feel like against her lips. She imagines Amy setting aside her own bottle before taking Angie's, stroking her fingers up Angie's neck and into blonde hair, her fingers cold and damp from the condensation on the bottle. Their lips come together, tasting of wine and heat, and Amy takes charge immediately, pressing her back against the swing, mouth on her throat, her chest, her breasts, tugging aside Angie's shirt and undoing her jeans, fingers slipping down into her panties.

She imagines that Amy's hands would tangle in her hair, pushing her down to eat her out, the way they'd tug and twist in her hair with pleasure as Angie sucked at her clit, licked up the musky taste of her arousal and pressed her tongue inside her. Amy's thighs would tremble and squeeze her as she came, gasping, bucking up against her mouth. Afterwards would be when the toys came out, the fancy ones that Angie sees in stores and wishes she had someone to try with. She imagines Amy working the v-shaped double ended dildo up inside herself, the toy held tight between strong thighs, used as a strap-on as she fucks Angie into the bed, kissing her breathless, biting at her neck and shoulders and nipples until it hurts so good and she comes so hard.....

At home, in bed, Angie relives this fantasy, her fingers on her clit slippery with lube, one of her vibrators in hand and on high, pumping into herself again and again until she comes. It's all she'll ever have of Amy, she knows that, so she doesn't feel too guilty about having these dirty fantasies about her brother's wife.

Seducing Amy Carson is the one mistake she's not going to make. Because she wouldn't be different, she wouldn't be the one to beat the odds, and all she'd accomplish would be to break her brother's heart.

~~~~


	2. Sunlight

The shooting and Ben's subsequent suspension from the force affected Amy Carson more than she let on, far more than he knew. The whole thing was just so, so crazy and unexpected, and somehow it took away the last little bit of the man that Amy had married. It would have happened eventually, she couldn't deny that. She'd known it somehow from the start: there was part of Ben that would never be hers no matter what she did, and that they would drift apart because of it. She tried to deny it, ignore it, but any time she was with him there was still that little nagging thought at the back of her mind. It made it worse that he was always so goddamn nice, always tried so hard to be everything she wanted him to be. But what she really wanted, needed, was to be caught up in the whirlwind of passion that she could see existed in him, somewhere, that she was never the target of.

At some point she'd started having an affair. It seemed the inevitable solution, and the thrill of the forbidden made her heart race. Peter had always worshiped her at work, given her those little looks that she was so familiar with, that made her body heat. That made her feel like he wanted her more than anything else and would do anything she wanted. There was a number of men she could have chosen, honestly - Amy knew she was attractive - but Peter was sweet and it was convenient and he had the adorable kind of nice guy look that she always fell victim to. Once turned into twice, turned into frantic lunch hours in her office with the blinds shut, lead to lies that took her away from home for a night in his apartment where she could bask in his desire and passion and complete focus on her, ride his cock until her legs were weak and her body completely spent from multiple rounds of sex. The thrill of it was addictive, and they became more bold - going on short, overnight trips on days when she could quietly mask their time away from the office, making love in opulent hotel rooms, walking hand in hand where no one would know they were nothing but a normal couple.

Her house was closer to work than his, and so occasionally she'd even brought him there during lunch hour when the children were at school and the housekeeper wasn't on duty yet. She never took him to bed, not -their- bed, but they fucked on the couch and in the shower and in the kitchen, Amy bent over the counter with a half-made sandwich beside her, breasts pressed against the cool counter laminate, Peter's hands hot on her body, his cock deep inside her.

There wasn't any reason to believe that things would be different when she brought Peter home at lunch the day after Ben's temporary suspension had been made... rather more than temporary. She hadn't seen Ben in two days, other than a text to say he'd be staying with a friend for a while. It relieved her - being around Ben made her feel helpless, frustrated that she couldn't do anything. Frustrated that he wouldn't open up to her. It was easier to loose herself in Peter's arms, in passion and desire, tumbling down onto the living room couch in a tangle of kisses and touch. It was easy, at least until she heard the front door open, accompanied by an all too familiar voice.

Amy yelped, pulled away, and grabbed for her shirt. In panic her mind stopped working, and the only thing she could think about was getting decent, hiding her sin and her shame from the man who stood in her front entry way. From her husband's best friend.

"Holy fucking mother of christ!"

She was vaguely aware of Peter fastening his clothes, but the focus of her panic was entirely on Larry, on the godfather of her children. "Larry, I swear this isn't what it looks like."

"The hell it isn't." She'd never seen Larry look angrier, deadly still but fuming, blue eyes cold and hard, and while there had been times when they hadn't seen eye to eye, she'd never felt truly frightened of him before now. "How long has this been going on?"

"Larry, it hasn't - "

"How Long. Has this. Been going on?" He blanched suddenly, even paler than normal under auburn hair. "Oh Jesus. The children - "

"Are Ben's. I swear it. I didn't - before Michael, Larry, I promise." She was babbling, she knew it, doing up the buttons of her shirt with trembling fingers. "Larry, please don't tell him. Oh god, please don't. I'll do anything - "

Larry watched her evenly, arching one eyebrow slightly, then lifted a hand to motion to the bluetooth headset around his ear. "Bit late for that."

"Oh god." Amy took a step backwards, half stumbling, to lean against the wall. She was aware of Larry speaking to the person on the other end of the phone, to _Ben_, his voice low and strangely calming.

"Stay there, don't do anything. I'll get your things and come right back, I'll be quick. You remember what I told you this morning, right? It's the truth, nothing will change that. Remember that, remember what I said to you. Just stay there, all right? Promise me, Ben. Please."

She heard the words but couldn't comprehend what was happening, that she'd been caught, and on today of all days. Peter slipped by her with an apologetic smile, leaving - leaving? - her alone with all of this, with the pieces of her life that threatened to shatter into even smaller pieces. It took a couple of minutes to realize that Larry had gone, too, up the stairs, pulling a suitcase from the hall closet and disappearing into their bedroom.

Amy followed, slowly, stomach churning, not sure if she could cry or be sick. She stopped in the doorway to the bedroom, leaning against the door frame, watching Larry systematically go through the bedroom drawers, taking things out and tucking them into the suitcase. The phone headset was no where to be seen. "Larry... what do I do?"

"What do _you_ do?" Larry straightened, looking back at her, lips parted in disbelief. "No wonder you couldn't give a shit about what happened to him last night. Just - jesus, Amy, why today? You have no idea...." he stopped, closing his eyes for a moment and giving a little shake of his head. "Fuck."

"I didn't mean to - " she tried, but the look he gave her, a sideways glare as he moved to start on the closet, made the words stick in her throat.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked again, sorting through the shirts and jackets that hung in the closet and picking ones with a well-trained eye. Larry was always good at improving Ben's wardrobe. He left the dress uniform in the back of the closet, still in its dry cleaning bag.

Amy swallowed. "Since... since just after Michael was born."

"Jesus Christ." Larry packed the load into the suitcase, taking shirts off their hangers and folding them into neat packages with practised ease. "And it never occurred to you to have enough respect for him to just...." he stopped and shook his head again. "He's tried so hard to please you, you know. He feels like he's never been good enough for you. Like he's failed all of you."

She tried to think of something to say, some justification. She couldn't. "Larry, I swear I'll fix things. I'll talk to him, tell him I'm sorry, I'll end it with Peter, I - "

"Don't you dare." He cut her off, turning and moving towards her so quickly that she shrank back into the hall. "Tell him you're sorry? Sorry for what, that you got caught? Jesus, Amy. He deserves better than that. I swear, if you guilt him into 'trying to work things out', if you put him through that hell then I will personally make sure that you regret it for the rest of your life."

His words were a maelstrom around her, anger and passion that she'd never seen in him, and all she could do was stare at him dumbly, blinking back tears. "Then what do I do? The children...."

"Your children," Larry said carefully, taking a step back into the room, "Deserve better than to spend their lives thinking that your relationship with him is normal. That this is what love is. What you do, Amy, is leave him the hell alone. Let Angie and I put him back together, build him up. And when he asks to leave you, you fucking better make it fair for him. That's what you do if you have a shred of decency left in your body. That's how you make up for this."

It angered her suddenly, that he was here talking to her like she was the only one who'd done anything wrong. "And pretend I don't know that he's off fucking some little bitch? Don't act like he's the victim here. I know he's got some woman on the side, I know he lies to me when he says he's spending time with you. You have no idea what it's like to kiss him and feel like he's holding back, to know that someone else will always be first in his heart. What the hell else was I supposed to do?"

Larry had gone very still, watching her quietly from where he stood by the bed. He wet his lips. "He never lied to you about spending time with me. But you can think whatever you want." He disappeared into their bathroom, coming out a few moments later with Ben's shaving bag and a few other items that took up the remaining space in the expertly packed suitcase. He zipped it closed and pulled it off the bed. "Don't drag this out, Amy. For both your sakes, for the children's sakes. Let him go, make it easy and fair."

"Fine," she spat back, following him out of the room. She stood at the head of the stairs and watched him as he went downstairs and left with the suitcase without looking back, shutting the door behind him. Then she went back into the bedroom, laying on the bed that still smelled of her husband, and cried.

~~~

 

It was months before she saw Ben again, in a small office with their lawyers, going through paperwork. He was calm and quiet and sober, and though a little sad he seemed stronger and more at peace than he had in a very long time. He wasn't wearing his wedding ring, and she wondered if he'd pawned it. He had a new tattoo on his forearm, strange characters that looked like some kind of rune, but she didn't ask him about it. He'd said when he'd gotten the last one done - Our Lady of Guadeloupe on his other forearm, a symbol of them, their family, that it would be the last. She didn't want to know about this new one or its meaning.

She'd wanted to split up their life with mechanical exactness, to boil everything down to cold numbers just to throw it in his face, but Ben's proposal was far more in her favor and left her without anything to argue over. He left her with the house, which was only a few years from being paid off, in lieu of child support, asked for nothing from the their life together beyond copies of some family photos and a few things that he'd brought with him into the marriage, like his set of really good chef knives. He asked for every other weekend with the children, a week in the summer, alternating Christmas and Easters. She couldn't say no.

When they were leaving, he shook her hand, pressing a light kiss to her cheekbone as he murmured, "Thank you, Amy."

She went home and cried.

~~~

 

Amy stopped seeing Peter. Or perhaps it was the other way around. He transferred out of her morgue, in any case. It relieved her. She couldn't stand the sight of him anymore. She wondered if she'd ever really loved him, or if she just needed someone to share her sin, to act as a release for her frustration. A shield against the rational fear that her marriage hadn't been everything she'd wanted it to be.

Three months after the divorce was finalized, she sold the house and bought a smaller one, closer to the children's school. She let the housekeeper go, and tried to learn to live with a house that was not always so pristine. Daisy was old enough to watch Michael in the hour after school before she got home, and they did the small chores she assigned them without too much complaint.

What surprised her more than anything was coming home from work one day to find Angie Carson in her kitchen with both children, adding toppings to individual sized pizza crusts as the oven warmed. She hadn't heard from Angie for months, and somewhere along the line had settled into the knowledge that her friendship with the other woman was just collateral damage in the divorce. But when Angie glanced up at her and smiled it was so sweet, so real that Amy's heart caught in her throat in the sudden rush of joy.

"Hey. Sorry I didn't call." Angie's smile is a little sad, a little wistful. "I was just shopping in the area and thought you might like a hand with dinner, so..." she glanced away for a moment, uncertain. "I can head out when we're done."

"Stay," Amy said quickly, setting down her purse and pulling on an apron, washing her hands. "I'm glad you came."

Angie came over more often after that, somehow having a knack for knowing just when Amy needed a hand. At first it was just to help with the children, but as they began to talk later and later into the night, Amy was grateful that it had become more than that. Angie didn't talk about Ben, and when Amy asked her answers were short and polite. Ben was fine, still staying with Larry, waiting for the NYPD to finish its investigation into the shooting. Yes, Ben was working, running the kitchen in a ritzy little lunch bistro in Manhattan. She was there too, making Martinis and Caesars for rich executives who tipped very well. It was definitely a step up from the bar she'd been at, and she actually got to see some sunshine, Angie had laughed. Amy didn't pry any more, telling herself firmly to put it all behind her. Besides, it was much nicer to watch Angie talk and smile.

Six months passing didn't see any change in it, other than Angie visiting a little more often. They repainted the kitchen one weekend while the kids were staying with Ben, repainted the white cupboards and painted the walls a light, soft blue that made everything lighter and brighter, and Amy opened a cold bottle of ice wine to finish up. Angie was smiling, strands of her hair escaping from its ponytail, fingers stained with paint against the wine glass.

Beautiful.

She'd been through all the stages, Amy reflected. Anger, denial, depression. Angie had talked her out of becoming a bar whore, listened to her rant and cry when the few dates she did go on resulted in nothing, or worse. Angie had held her when she'd run into Peter with a new, younger girlfriend, stroked her hair while she sobbed into her shoulder. And now that Amy felt calm, felt like it was all right to take some time to be single and rediscover life on her own, Angie was still here, helping her, encouraging her. Should it feel strange, that her greatest strength and confidante was her ex-husband's sister?

Angie leaned back against the counter with her drink, sipping it, smiling, cheeks dimpling with good humor. The sunshine from the window behind her made her hair glow almost white, illuminated like an angel. The comparison wasn't too far off. There was a smudge of blue paint on her cheek, and Amy reached out to rub it away with her thumb, too long a mother to ignore it. "We're probably both a mess. You want to borrow the shower and something to wear before you take off?"

"Yeah, thanks. In a minute." Angie's smile widened a little at her touch, but that wasn't what made Amy pause. The look in the other woman's eyes was so focused, so... so unmistakably adoring....

When she didn't pull her hand back, Angie's smile faltered, blue eyes breaking from Amy's gaze to glance away as her cheeks flushed pink. She set the wine glass aside, fumbling it a little. "I guess I can take that shower now, get out of your hair...."

"Angie." Amy let her palm cup the other woman's cheek, thumb brushing her skin, watching as Angie's lips parted, her breath coming faster. Then she drew a deep breath and acted before she could second guess herself, pressing close and tilting Angie's face to hers, claiming soft lips with her own. It had been ages since she'd kissed another woman, since a short, intense and heartbreaking relationship just after she'd graduated from college, but the sweetness of it came back to her in a rush. She'd never told Ben - men didn't understand about these kind of things - but she liked this all the same, and suddenly wondered why she hadn't thought of women before. Why she hadn't thought of Angie.

The younger woman was trembling madly as she returned the kiss, her hands coming up to cup Amy's arms, just barely holding her as if she half expected Amy to break, or to pull away at any moment. Amy responded with a soft, reassuring hum, slipping an arm around her waist and kissing her more warmly, drinking in the feel of Angie's lips against hers, the little gasps of breath she could feel between kisses. She stroked her hand back over Angie's hair, tugging away her hair tie carefully to let blonde locks fall free, running her fingers through her hair, tangling, holding Angie to her.

I'm doing this to hurt him, she told herself, but she knew it wasn't true. Angie was too dear to her to use like this. But wasn't that what she was doing? Amy broke from the kiss, breathless, trying to separate her mind from the elation of mutual attraction realized. "I don't know what I want," she said slowly, watching the joy in Angie's eyes start to fade. She lifted a hand to cup her cheek again, giving a little shake of her head. "Don't look so crushed, baby girl. I want you. I think you're beautiful and desirable and I'm so happy when I'm with you. I just don't want to promise you something in the heat of the moment that I can't give you. I'm sorry...."

Angie gave her head a little shake, forcing a smile. "No, no. That's fair. I just... let me know when you've figured it out, I guess."

Amy could feel her friend still trembling under her touch, and she sighed, stroking her fingers back into her hair. "How about this. We see how things go for now, and if either one of us wants out for any reason... just say so. And for my part... as long as I'm with you, I promise that there won't be anyone else in my life. I swear it."

Angie flushed darker, but the smile was real now, shy and sweet, as she lifted her eyes back to Amy's. "All right," she replied, returning the touch to Amy's hair, pressing her lips to the corner of her mouth gently. "I'd like that. I'd really like that, Amy."

She couldn't help but feel a warm rush of joy, of hope, and for the first time in years wondered if things were really going to work out after all. She turned her face to catch Angie's mouth again, flicking her tongue against her bottom lip to taste her and feeling the low moan it drew from the other woman's throat. Angie's reactions were incredibly gratifying, arching against her, almost molding herself to Amy's body, lips parting to her kisses. Her fingers moved to tangle in Amy's shirt at the small of her back holding her close, and slowly as they kissed Amy felt the nervousness in her friend calm, give way to warmth and ease and desire.

"Ben's going to kill me," she murmured, though it wasn't enough to make her stop. "Or you. Or both of us. Oh god...."

"Ben will be fine," Angie reassured softly, cheeks dimpling as she smiled and kissed her again. "And he doesn't have to know anything until you want him to, anyway."

The thought relieved her, but only a little, and she realized that she wanted Ben to know - not to hurt him, but because she didn't want to hide this from anyone. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she replied with a little smile, stroking her cheek again. "You still want that shower, sweetie? There's room enough for two."

Angie flushed darkly, adorably, giving a soft laugh under her breath, almost nervous. But she caught Amy's hand in hers as she drew back, squeezing gently. "I thought you'd never ask."

After the shower, after passions had been satisfied for the time being, they curled together in bed, exhausted. Happy. Amy watched her lover relax, giving her a little dreamy smile. She smoothed her fingers slowly through silken strands of sunlit hair. "I think I married the wrong Carson," she said, and returned Angie's smile.

~~~~


End file.
